Marriage and perseverance
On December 30, 2014, in Canberra, the summer sun slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows of a photo studio, casting dappled shadows on the wooden floorboards that swayed along the window frames. The air was filled with the faint aroma of hairspray, mingling with the sweet, warm milk in the corner, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. Jiang Wan was carefully helping Xiaofeng adjust the hem of her skirt.
"Xiaofeng, this bow is crooked." Jiang Wan's fingertips gently brushed the loose hair at the back of Xiaofeng's neck, straightening the crooked bow. Xiaofeng looked down at the ribbon on her chest and smiled, "Mom is more professional than a stylist."
"A family portrait like this needs to be meticulous," Jiang Wan patted her shoulder, "and have the stylist touch up your makeup."
While Wenqing was trying on his suit, Wenfeng stood up and, while adjusting his tie, slowly moved over to Xiaofeng. Jiang Wan was about to reach out to stop him, but Jiang Heng, who was standing beside her, gently held her wrist.
"Xiaofeng, you look so beautiful today." There was a hint of subtle awkwardness in Wen Feng's voice.
"Thank you." Xiaofeng, who was fiddling with her hair in front of the mirror, turned her head when she heard the voice, a gentle smile on her face.
"Is it hard to be pregnant with a baby?"
"It's not hard at all. On the contrary, I think it's worth it." Xiao Feng winked and jokingly said, "You're going to be an uncle too. Have you prepared the gifts?"
"What do you want?"
"Who needs a gift?" Xiao Feng laughed. "It has to be something you really want, and you have to prepare two."
"Well, I'll think about it." Wen Feng nodded and asked softly, "Do you know the gender of the babies?"
"I don't know yet. Do you like boys or girls?"
"Me?" Wen Feng looked at her slightly bulging belly, his eyes softening. "I like both boys and girls."
"Then you must listen carefully to the doctor, go for regular checkups, and when the babies are born, teach them to play basketball, okay?" Xiaofeng's tone was full of anticipation.
"Okay." Wen Feng responded, his eyes quietly reddened. He hurriedly lowered his head, turned around and walked away, with an indescribable feeling hidden in his back.
The night before they returned home, Jiang Heng summoned Wenqing to his study. Moonlight streamed in from the window, and the two sat in silence for a long moment before slowly speaking. That night, no one knew what they talked about. All they knew was that as the morning light filtered through the window, both of their eyes were bloodshot—in this family, everyone carried too many hidden concerns.
At 6:00 a.m. on February 27, 2015, Wenqing was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when his phone on the dining table suddenly began to ring sharply. Each ring, like an icy awl, chiseled into his nerves, as if writing the code for "bad news." Through the receiver came his mother's intermittent sobs, faint and desperate, like the humming of a death noose tightening, instantly snatching his breath away.
The moment Xiaofeng opened the bedroom door, she was sitting on the bed, her head lowered in thought. When she heard the noise, she looked up suddenly. Wenqing's distorted face was reflected in her moist pupils, and her voice trembled: "Is...something wrong?"
Wenqing's Adam's apple rolled violently, and tears fell onto Xiaofeng's hand without warning, hot and cold at the same time. "Honey... I need to go back for a few days..." His fists clenched tightly, his knuckles crackling. "Yanzi will bring meals on time, and Doctor Dong will come to check every night."
Xiaofeng's tears silently soaked the corner of the quilt, but she clutched his sleeve tightly, her nails almost digging into the fabric: "Be careful on the road."
"You must take good care of yourself and the baby." Wen Qing's voice was hoarse as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper.
Jiang Wenqing returned to China to handle the funeral. On the seventh night, the scent of incense mingled with a chill filled the mourning hall. Before Wen Feng's portrait, Jiang Heng looked at his exhausted son and said gravely, "Your brother is gone. All the grudges should be over."
Wenqing didn't dare meet his father's eyes. His gaze was fixed on his brother's youthful, smiling face in the portrait. A sweet, fishy taste welled up in his throat. "I can't get over it," he said in a low, stubborn voice. "I'm doing this to atone for my sins, but also to protect Xiaofeng."
After the seventh day, Wenqing returned to Canberra. He opened the door and saw Xiaofeng, looking haggard, slumped on the sofa. He could clearly hear the crisp sound of his heart freezing, then, with a "crack," it shattered into pieces.
On March 10, 2015, after my 32-week prenatal checkup, the doctor, holding the ultrasound report, gave me a serious advice: "Because these are monochorionic twins, they share a placenta and are in the same amniotic sac, so the risk is high. We recommend terminating the pregnancy no later than 34 weeks. During this time, you must closely monitor the changes in your belly and perform fetal heart monitoring."
The two began to prepare for the birth in full swing: they first called their parents to explain the situation so that they could arrange time to accompany them; they also booked the delivery room and the medical team; finally, they packed the delivery bag together. The sofa was filled with small swaddling clothes, bottles, and diapers, each item carrying anticipation and anxiety.
That day, during a break from shopping, the two of them stopped at a cafe. Xiaofeng's phone suddenly vibrated in her bag. She answered it, her face darkening. "No..." "After the birth? There's only two weeks left. Impossible..." "Grandpa, I'm sorry. This is non-negotiable. It's really not possible."
Wen Qing looked at her tense profile and asked anxiously, "What's wrong?"
Xiaofeng hung up the phone, her fingertips still trembling slightly, but her eyes were remarkably firm: "Grandpa Zhou's illness has relapsed, and he wants me to...give up the child and have another donation operation."
"What do you think?" Wen Qing felt relieved, as light as breathing, but was then seized by an even stronger tension.
Xiaofeng subconsciously stroked her swollen belly, where she could clearly feel the movements of two tiny lives. "Of course not," she said softly, but with finality. "Our babies are about to be born. Every day I can feel them kicking and turning over. These are two living beings. There's no way I'm giving up."
On March 22, 2015, as soon as Jiang Heng and Jiang Wan entered the door, Xiaofeng slowly stood up by holding the armrest of the sofa.
Wenqing smiled mysteriously at the side: "Look, who's here?"
Xiaofeng looked up and found Zhou Yong still standing at the door. She shouted in surprise, "Uncle Zhou!" and wanted to rush forward, but was stopped as soon as she took a step.
"Don't move, don't move!" Zhou Yong didn't even bother to change his shoes. He quickly took a few steps over to support her, his tone filled with resentment, "You're going to give birth the day after tomorrow, and you're going to be a mother soon, yet you're still so impatient."
"Uncle Zhou, my grandfather called me just now..." Xiaofeng was interrupted by Zhou Yong before he could finish his words.
He quickly made a pause gesture and gave Xiaofeng a look. Xiaofeng then turned to Jiang Heng and Jiang Wan, who had just changed their shoes, and called out sweetly, "Dad, Mom."
Wenqing immediately understood and took the initiative to suggest: "Mom and Dad, let me take you to put your luggage first."
After the three of them left the living room, Zhou Yong slowed down his tone and asked softly, "Grandpa called you?"
"Yeah," Xiaofeng nodded, a trace of worry flashing in his eyes, "He said the disease had relapsed and asked me to give up the baby and have surgery. I refused at the time. I'm going to give birth the day after tomorrow. Can you wait until after I give birth?"
"The window period has passed." Zhou Yong's voice became deeper.
"What do you mean?" Xiaofeng's heart suddenly tightened.
"It's too late." Zhou Yong looked at her face, which turned pale instantly, and quickly supported her arm. "Calm down, don't scare the baby in your belly."
"Then...what else can I do?" Xiaofeng's voice trembled.
"The most important thing for you now is to give birth to the two children safely." Zhou Yong patted the back of her hand gently and added, "Actually, I told you that Grandpa's Alzheimer's disease is more obvious now, and he has lost some of his ability to take care of himself."
"Then why did Uncle Zhou have time to come over?"
"I'm here to attend a medical conference." Zhou Yong smiled, his tone more relaxed. "To be precise, I'm here to accompany you during your delivery and hold a meeting at the same time."
Xiao Feng finally breathed a sigh of relief. She held Zhou Yong's arm and leaned against him affectionately, her eyes curved into crescents. "Uncle Zhou is the best."
On March 24, 2015, Xiaofeng reached 34 weeks of pregnancy. The doctor detailed the delivery plan: a fetus born at 34 weeks is considered premature, with potentially underdeveloped lungs. Respiratory distress syndrome (RDS) may occur after birth, requiring specialized care in the neonatal unit. The mother had not yet shown any signs of spontaneous recurrence, and it was unclear whether the uterus would be strong enough to propel two fetuses through the birth canal at 34 weeks. This could result in prolonged labor or even dystocia. If this were to occur, a cesarean section would be necessary, with the family's signature required.
Finally, at Zhou Yong's suggestion, they chose to induce labor through an injection, and Wenqing accompanied them throughout the delivery.
Wenqing changed into a sterilized delivery gown and stood at the doorway of the delivery room, taking a few deep breaths, his fingertips trembling slightly with nervousness. The moment he pushed the door open, the scent of disinfectant and the beeping of the monitors assaulted him. He quickly walked to the delivery bed and tightly grasped Xiaofeng's hand. Sweat trickled down her forehead and onto his wrist, the warm touch making his heart tighten. He had never imagined he would witness the first miracle of life in such a room filled with the clatter of medical equipment.
As the oxytocin entered her body through the intravenous drip, Xiaofeng's breathing gradually changed from rapid to deep. The midwife's steady guidance sounded like a timpani, "Try harder!" She clenched her teeth. Wenqing could clearly feel her body trembling violently, but she still pushed down with all her might.
Suddenly, a clear cry pierced the silence—a nurse carefully cradled a pink little creature, its umbilical cord still attached to the mother. Before she could even begin to revel in the joy, a second cry followed. The twin's tiny feet, still stained with the glistening amniotic fluid, shone wetly under the light.
The nurse placed the two little ones side by side on Xiaofeng's chest. The moment their skin touched, Xiaofeng's tears mixed with sweat rolled down. Wenqing picked up the scissors with trembling hands. The moment he cut the umbilical cord, the metal blade reflected his blurred tears. He remembered the countless nights he had massaged Xiaofeng's swollen ankles, and reading "The Little Prince" to her bulging belly during prenatal education. All those tiny moments of waiting and anticipation now turned into the babies' curled up little fists, tightly grasping his heartbeat. The nurse smiled softly and explained, "The older brother came out two minutes earlier, but he weighs 200 grams less than his younger brother."
When Xiaofeng weakly raised her hand and gently stroked the babies' wrinkled cheeks with her fingertips, Wenqing realized that the back of his shirt was already soaked with sweat. He leaned over and kissed her messy hair, his own heartbeat and the ticking of the neonatal monitor strangely overlapping in his ears.
The nurse walked out of the delivery room and announced the good news to Jiang Heng, Jiang Wan, and Zhou Yong who were waiting outside: "It's two boys, mother and child are safe!"
The names of the two children had already been chosen: the eldest, Jiang Zhengli, nicknamed Lucas; the second, Jiang Zhenghan, nicknamed Oscar.
The second uncle said: "Zheng" means fairness and integrity; etiquette is the order of heaven and earth; with integrity as the foundation of calligraphy, I hope that the two brothers will respect the way of heaven and earth, abide by the rules of etiquette, and work together to achieve extraordinary achievements in the future.
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